Public Adornments
by TexasDreamer01
Summary: "Mad laughter resonates in the distance. It is compiled with the whine of duel disks, holograms flickering to life. You hear the eerie sound of theme music, and the enthusiastic shouting of strangely-dressed people." About the fandom. An exercise in how and outsider might view us. Originally posted on tumblr - link in bio. Mentions of GX and 5Ds.


Mad laughter resonates in the distance. It is compiled with the whine of duel disks, holograms flickering to life. You hear the eerie sound of theme music, and the enthusiastic shouting of strangely-dressed people.

Curious, you step closer, the raging sounds of battle masking your entrance to the unmarked arena.

This was the first time you've ever seen so much of a street taken up by people, doing… you don't really know what they're doing, actually. A man laughs as… his? dragon roars, making you flinch and stare in awe.

A sudden concussive blast ruffles your hair. Attention drawn to its source, you unabashedly gape at the tall and imposing man floating in the air, purple armour shining as he twirls his staff with a smirk. Catching on, you peek past to an equally imposing figure, a surprisingly short-statured man with wild hair tossing taunts with his opponent a few metres away.

The chaos of the street suddenly calms, exotic duels being won and lost seemingly in concert. Your heart pounds, and you do not know why.

Some people gather together, their features remarkable and inexorably setting them apart from the crowd.

The short man from a few moments ago was there. He was taking charge, voice strangely alternating between rich, deep baritone and something barely two octaves higher - it mattered not, for everyone's eyes were fastened to him in rapt attention with each lilt of his tone.

So was the dragon man, actually. His trench coat was billowing out and cobalt eyes glittered like chips of stars.

An assortment of others were there, too, like two other young men. One in a red jacket and relatively subdued brown hair, amber eyes sharp and attentive; the other flanking his left was taller, jet black hair spiked with blond streaks and an ostensibly perpetually-grim expression carved on his face.

You notice, now, the strange things attached to nearly everyone's arms. A good majority of them looked vastly different, but closer scrutiny revealed them to have the same basic structure. Some were lit, the outlines pulsating gently. Those with the strange technology turned off had a hand on their hip.

It startles you to realize that their grip is possessive over the cards you saw them using earlier. The fact that their deck of cards are being treated like a loaded weapon makes the hair on your neck prickle.

So slowly it had slipped past your notice, the sky grew darker. An impossible feat - there were no clouds but moments earlier, and not a hint of moisture in the air. You feel a pressure exerting itself all over you, stomach roiling and head pounding. Something slick brushes past you with a whispered laugh, making you start as your vision flutters from pain-filled nausea.

Blinking rapidly to regain some sense of equilibrium, you look up around you. A chill chases down your spine as you take in the almost greasy-looking purple mist. It occurs to you, faintly, that you must be somewhere… _else_ now.

When a cackling skeleton in tattered armour scrambles past you toward the figures you were spying upon earlier, the impression is redoubled.

Just as you have straightened up and steadied yourself, the sudden weight of scrutiny is upon you. The intimidating looking people from before were focused on you, the faces a mix of gravity, sympathy, and harshness.

It is almost suffocating, being looked at in such a swiftly calculating manner.

"You, there," The same man that spoke earlier, "How are you here?"

A gentle question, despite the curtness. "I.. I-I don't know."

This brings a murmur among them. You shuffle a bit, feeling chilled. It does not take long before their attention is riveted back to you.

The man steps toward you in smooth, confident steps. As he comes closer, you almost crumple at the weight of his presence. Despite the volume and attention of his hair - you vaguely note that his hair fits him perfectly, dark hair like a crown, and bangs framing his face elegantly - he is of short stature, and you surprisingly look _down_ instead of _up_ to his face.

When he raises his hand to cup your cheek, an unexpectedly intimate gesture, you manage to feel docile. A glance to his eyes reveals a warm kindness, and his smile incites one of your own.

"Begone, then, and forget this place," The other murmurs, and the last sight you see is a flash of brilliant and multi-coloured light.

It seems an instant later you are standing back in the middle of the street. Nothing looks amiss, even though your ears tingle with the half-forgotten sounds of uncanny battle and head throbs with impunity.

Twenty paces back to where you wanted to go, and you can't remember there was anything to forget at all.


End file.
